Inmate 78Revenge
by Poohbear-29
Summary: Ma Quince comes looking to avenge her son's death.


Title-----Inmate 78- Revenge!

Author------Winnie

Rating----T

Disclaimer-----This is for entertainment only…no profit was made form this story.

Comments-----This is a WHN for Inmate 78. Ma Quince is looking to avenge her son's death.

"When can you arrange for the services I want?" the silver haired woman asked.

"Give me a month. I'll have everything ready for you."

The woman stared at the young man before her. She knew her money would buy his loyalty. The man had come highly recommended in the town of Purgatorio, Mexico. She'd been told that he also had his own reasons for hating the man she was seeking revenge against.

"I'll give you half the money now and the other half when you tell me where to meet you," she told him.

The red haired man with the boyish face and grey-blue eyes studied the elderly woman before him. Except for the hatred in her eyes, she seemed more like the grandmotherly type than a woman bent on revenge.

"Tell me, Mrs. Quince, just what did Chris Larabee do to make you hate him so?"

Her eyes grew angry and the lines across her forehead intensified, "Chris Larabee murdered my son."

"So why not let the law handle it?" he asked.

"The law won't do nothin' to the likes of him. Especially with those six friends of his to back him up."

"So why not just let me kill him?"

"Oh he will die eventually but I want him to suffer first. My son was Sheriff in Jericho and he didn't deserve to die at no inmate's hands. When you take Chris Larabee to his new hellhole, I want you to refer to him by the same thing he was referred to in Jericho prison," she said, the smile on her weathered face not touching her heated eyes.

"And what would that be?"

"You are to call him Inmate 78."

"One month to set everything up, Ma'am. I'll need to hire some men," he said as he downed the last of his whiskey.

"I thought so. Here's five hundred dollars. I'm sure you can buy some more loyalty with that," she said.

"I know of at least ten good men right here in Purgatorio who'd do this for nothing more than to teach Larabee a little humility. The money will just be a little added incentive. I'll send word as soon as we're set up. Good night ma'am," he said as he stood to leave.

"I want to be there when you bring him in," she said.

"Will you be staying here or returning to Jericho?"

"I'll be in Jericho. You just send a message of where I'm to meet you and I'll be there," she said.

"It's been a pleasure, Mrs. Quince," the outlaw said as he disappeared out the door.

'_You're going to pay, Inmate 78,_' she said as she tossed back a tiny shot of whiskey.

"Hey, Chris, where're ya headin'?"

Chris continued to saddle his black horse as he answered his friend. "Thought I'd spend a few days at the shack, Vin."

"Want some company?" Tanner asked.

"Not this time, Pard," Chris said and saw the flicker of hurt in his friend's eyes. "Look, Vin, Nathan's finally going to let me out of his sight. I've been cooped up in this town for over a month. The wound in my side is healed and I just need to be alone for a while. Give me a few days alone, alright?"

The tracker looked into his friend's eyes and saw the truth in them. Chris Larabee had been beaten pretty badly when they'd found him in Jericho prison and Nathan had insisted he stay close to town. Normally Chris Larabee would have fought this order but the beatings and weight loss suffered at the hands of the warden had left him weak and ill for nearly three weeks. The man still didn't look well to Vin Tanner but he knew Chris hated being coddled.

"OK, Chris, I'll see you in a few days," he said.

"Give me a week, Tanner," Chris said as they shared the forearm handshake.

"A week," Vin said as he watched his best friend mount his horse and leave town.

"Where's Chris off to, Vin?" JD Dunne asked as he walked up behind the quiet tracker.

"Says he needs time to himself so he's gone to his shack."

"Nathan know?"

"Don't have a clue but knowing Chris he probably doesn't," Vin smiled at the youngest member of the seven.

"I sure wouldn't want to be him if he didn't tell Nathan," JD said.

"Tell Nathan what?" Jackson asked as he and Josiah Sanchez joined the other two men.

"Oh, nothin' Nate," Vin said sheepishly.

"Don't give me nothin'. What were you two talking about that I should know?"

"Chris is gone to his shack," JD answered.

"Is that what's got you two looking so worried? I gave Chris the ok last night. Figured the man was about to bolt anyway," Nathan Jackson laughed at the guilty looks on the faces of the two men.

"When are Buck and Ezra due back?" JD asked as the four men walked towards the saloon. The two missing lawmen had gone to Eagle Bend to deliver two prisoners.

"They should be back sometime tomorrow morning," Sanchez answered.

Chris pulled his horse in front of the tiny shack he'd built with the help of his friend Vin Tanner. It wasn't much but because of the seclusion it provided it felt like heaven on earth to Chris. It was nestled in among trees, sagebrush and only thirty feet from a stream that always provided cold, clear water.

When he'd left town, the sun had been shining but by the time he'd reached his shack, the sky had clouded over with thick grey and black clouds. He knew he didn't have much time before the skies opened up and the rain came. He'd already heard the echoing sounds of thunder and spotted a few streaks of lightning in the distance.

He dismounted and unsaddled his horse before putting him into the corral. He patted the horse on the rump and walked towards the shack as the first large drops of rain began to fall. He removed his hat and let the warm drops hit his face. It wasn't long before his clothes were soaked and he hurried into the shack.

"That's him. You boys know what to do?" the red-haired outlaw asked.

"Sure thing boss," a large gorilla-like man answered as they climbed out from their hiding place.

Chris stripped off his gun belt and placed it on the chair. He removed the wet clothing he'd been wearing and dried his rain soaked glistening body with one of the tiny towels. He grabbed a dry pair of black jeans and dressed quickly as a chill ran down his spine.

A sound outside the door drew his attention and he hurriedly grabbed for his gun. He held it in his right hand and waited to see if it was friend or foe as the rain beat a steady drumbeat on the roof.

"Whoever you are, you'd better show yourself," Chris ordered.

"Hey, Chris, it's me. Jerry Wilson,' the voice called.

"Wilson," Chris thought and remembered the man he'd met in Purgatorio the last time he'd visited Maria. "How'd you know I was here?" Chris asked as he opened the door, his gun pointed at the center of the man's chest. He recognized the little man before him and some of the tenseness left his body.

"I stopped in town. Some kid sheriff named JD told me where to find you. Look, Chris, Maria asked me to come get you. She's in trouble and she's mighty scared."

"What kind of trouble?" Chris asked as he opened the door further and signalled the man inside.

"Some guy beat her up two nights ago. He told her he'd be back," Wilson told him.

"Let me get a few things together," Chris said as he slid his gun back in its holster.

He turned to the small dresser by his bed and opened the top drawer. The distinctive sound of a gun being cocked made him turn. He found himself looking down the large barrel of a pistol. "What's going on, Wilson?" he asked as his hand moved slightly towards his own weapon.

"Uhuh, don't think about it, Chris. Come on in, Billy," he called his eyes never leaving Chris Larabee's hands.

Chris looked to the door as it was opened and a red-haired man stepped inside. He was quickly followed by two other dripping wet outlaws that Chris recognized from Purgatorio. "Billy Turner," he said as his face filled with rage.

"Glad to see you remember me, Larabee," Turner grinned as he reached out and removed Chris's gun.

"How could I forget?" Chris grinned insolently. "I kinda enjoyed beating the shit out of you and your buddy," he said.

Billy Turner reacted instantly, the gun in his hand connecting with Chris's forehead and dropping him to his knees. "You'd better shut up," he said.

Chris felt the blood running into his eyes but didn't bother to wipe it away. His green eyes filled with anger and his mouth turned up in a tiny smile, "See you still hit like a lady," he said.

Turner realized he was being goaded and placed his gun to Chris's head, "I think it's time to take you to your new home Inmate 78," he said.

Chris was unable to hide the surprise that showed on his face. He'd known Turner had to be working for someone and the use of his Jericho number sent shivers down his spine.

"I see you remember who you are, Inmate 78," Turner sneered. "Get up and get your boots on, its time to take you to your new quarters."

Chris had no choice but to comply. He staggered to his feet and struggle into his boots. It wasn't long before his arms were secured behind his back with the hated manacles he remembered from his stint in the prison.

The rain continued to fall as he was thrown on his horse and secured to the saddle. His head ached from the blow he'd received and he closed his eyes against the feeling of nausea. Turner mounted his horse and took the reins for Larabee's horse. They were soon riding away from Chris's little piece of heaven into what he knew would be a large piece of hell for him.

Chris realized dishearteningly that Vin Tanner, even though he was the best tracker Chris had ever known, would not have any tracks to read as the torrential rain obliterated everything it touched. He'd have to find some way out of this mess himself.

"Think Chris is ok out there in this storm?" JD asked as another streak of lightening swallowed up the darkness.

"Chris'll be fine, JD. He's probably sittin' back with a bottle of whiskey in the warmth of his shack. I think you should be worried about us having to do our rounds on a night like this," Vin said as he snuggled into his coat.

"Guess you're right, Vin," JD laughed as he dumped the water from the brim of his derby hat.

"I don't think there's anyone foolish enough to be out on a night like this, JD. What do you say to stopping into the saloon and grabbing a whiskey? I need something to ward off this chill," Vin said as he handed his horse over to Yosemite.

"Sounds good to me, Vin," JD said as he did the same with his own horse.

They rode through the night and well into the next day. The storm didn't seem to bother his captors and Chris wondered if his aching head could take much more of the uncomfortable jostling. He knew they'd crossed over into Mexico but had bypassed Purgatorio. He'd been sure that was their destination as they rode in a southerly direction. His eyes closed as the pain in his head intensified. He was thirsty, hungry, wet, hurting, and feeling miserable.

The rain stopped and Turner finally signalled a halt to his men. He pulled up beside his prisoner and smiled maliciously. "We'll be stopping for a little while, Inmate 78. I suggest you deal with any needs you may have now because there won't be any more stops until we reach your new home," he laughed as he pulled Chris from the saddle.

Chris's legs felt like rubber and he dropped to the ground as the circulation returned. He bit back a cry of pain as his left knee connected with a sharp rock. He felt blood well up and soak into his pants.

"You're a mess, Inmate 78," Turner said as he hauled his captive to his feet.

Chris glared at his enemy as his knees threatened to give way again. "The name is Chris Larabee," he said angrily.

"Not any more, Inmate 78," Turner laughed as he pulled the man to a small outcropping of rock. "You'd better get some rest cause we're riding out again in fifteen minutes."

Chris closed his eyes and let his head fall forward on his chest. He hoped the others would leave him alone as he tried to pull his hand free of the manacles that bit deeply into his wrists. He lifted his head and watched his captors through hooded eyes. He felt the manacles slip and wondered if he'd have time to get out of them before Turner called the order to move out. Just as he felt the manacles begin to slide up over his now slippery hand, he heard Turner's voice.

"Give him some water."

Chris stopped struggling as one of the men walked towards him with a canteen in his hand. His wrist slipped out of the cuff as the man bent in front of him. Chris grabbed for the man's gun and twisted him around so that he was shielding his own body.

"Drop the guns or he's a dead man," he ordered as Turner hurried towards him.

"You stupid idiot," Turner said as he pulled his own gun and shot the man Chris held.

Blood splattered in Chris's eyes and they closed automatically affording Turner the chance he needed. He slapped the gun out of Chris's hand and struck him on the right shoulder with his own weapon. Once again, Chris Larabee was on his knees in front of the hated man.

"That was not smart, Inmate 78. You've just lost any right to food and water," he said as he savagely replaced and tightened the manacles. "It's time to teach you your first lesson," Turner said as he walked to his horse and pulled a whip from his saddle.

Chris watched the man walking towards him and felt his own rage building inside him. Before he could speak, his shirt was ripped down the back and he felt the first stinging bite of the black leather. He set his body and mind to take whatever this man dealt out but was unable to stop the cry of pain as the seventh blow tore into his flesh. The cry signalled the end of the lesson as Turner replaced the whip on his saddle.

"Get him on his horse," Turner ordered.

"What about Tom?" one of the other two men asked.

"What about him? The idiot could have cost me everything. Leave his body for the animals," Turner said viciously.

Jerry Wilson pulled Chris to his feet and dragged him to his horse.

"Tie him face down," Turner said gleefully.

Chris was thrown over the horse and his arms and legs secured so he wouldn't fall off. He groaned as Turner moved the horses forward and wondered if he'd live through this one.

"Storm's finally over," Nathan observed as he took a seat next to Josiah Sanchez.

"It would appear so, Brother Nathan. Mother Nature certainly showed her fury last night," Sanchez answered.

"Think Chris is ok?" Nathan asked.

"Anyone seen Vin?" Wilmington asked as he entered the saloon and stepped up to the table.

"Saw him a few minutes ago, said he was going out on patrol. When'd you get back?" Josiah asked.

"What's wrong, Buck?" Jackson asked.

"Nothin, really, just worryin' bout Chris. Wondered how his little shack fared in the storm last night. Got back a little while ago. Rode most of the way through the storm. JD told me Chris went to his shack yesterday."

"I'm sure he's fine," Sanchez said.

"Yeah, you're probably right, Josiah, but I think I'll just make sure my patrol includes a certain little clearing near the stream," Buck said a devilish grin on his face.

"Just don't let him see you," Nathan said seriously.

"I may be worried, Nathan, but I'm not stupid. I'll just do a little ride by. If the shack's still standing, then I won't go near it," Buck told them as he left the saloon.

Vin Tanner rode his horse over the trail that would bypass his friend's property. He knew Chris' shack was pretty strong but the storm the night before had taken its toll in a few areas and he worried that Chris place would have been hard hit. He'd found some downed trees on the way out of Four Corners and decided to check on his friend without letting him know he was concerned.

He watched the silent yard from his vantage point and was instantly on alert when there was no smoke coming from the chimney. His eyes turned to the corral and his worry grew when he saw no sign of Chris's horse. '_Easy, Tanner, he probably just went for a ride_,' he thought as he aimed his horse down the steep trail into the tiny yard.

"Hey, Chris, you in there?" Vin called as he climbed down from his horse. He turned and levelled his Mare's leg as a horse galloped into the yard. He lowered the weapon when he recognized the horse and rider. "What are you doing out here, Buck?" he asked as the man drew abreast of him.

"Could ask you the same thing, Vin," Wilmington grinned. "Chris inside?"

"Don't think so. Looks like nobody's here. Horse is gone too," Vin said as Buck joined him on the ground.

"Chris say he planned on going anywhere but here?" Buck asked.

"No, said he was going to spend some time alone. Wanted to work on the roof," Vin said as he moved towards the door. "Chris," he called as he opened the door.

The interior of the shack was shrouded in shadows as Vin and Buck entered. Vin's eyes were drawn to the small pile of wet black clothes lying on the floor, the discarded towel on the floor. He walked over to the clothes and picked up the damp clothing. "Somethin's wrong, Buck," he said as his keen eyes continued to survey the tiny interior.

"I think you're right, Pard. Chris may not be the best at keepin' house but Sarah taught him to hang up his things," Buck said as his eyes were drawn to a small brown colored stain on the floor. He bent down, touched it and looked worriedly at Vin Tanner.

"That what I think it is, Buck?"

"It's blood," Buck said. "We'd better go get the others."

"You ride back to town. I'll see if I can find out what's happened here," Tanner told him.

Buck took one look at the younger man and knew there was no point in arguing. "I'll be back with the others as soon as I can." He said as he opened the door. Turning back to Tanner he said, "Find him, Vin," and left before the younger man answered.

Chris felt as if he'd never be comfortable again. His ribs ached from riding face down on the horse, his back and head throbbed unmercifully, and his wrist was rubbed raw from the manacles. He wondered if they'd ever reach their destination, thinking anything would be better than this.

He'd been uncomfortable for so long that he didn't notice when the horses were drawn to a halt. He felt hands grabbing his hair and lifting his face. He opened his eyes and realized he must have lost consciousness again as it was now full dark. A lamp was held in front of his face and he closed his eyes against the sudden glare.

"Hello, Inmate 78, your room is ready now."

Chris heard the familiar voice and remembered those same words spoken to him just before the Jericho prison hell started. The woman standing before him, holding his hair in her hand had silver hair pulled sharply back in a bun, and wore a heavy white dress.

"Quince," his dry throat made his voice raspy as he forced the hated name out.

"Very good. Cut him down Mr. Turner. I want Inmate 78 to see his new home," she laughed.

Turner slit the ropes that held the prisoner to his horse and pulled him from the saddle.

Chris struggled to keep his balance and glared at the woman before him. "You're son deserved everything he got," he told her.

She lashed out with her free hand and slapped him across the face. "I'm going to make sure you get what you deserve, Inmate 78," she laughed harshly. "I figure you served three weeks of the sentence my son imposed on you. That leaves four years and forty-nine weeks left. You'll be spending those weeks in my custody."

"Don't bet on it," Chris smiled at the woman.

Ma Quince glared at the man standing before her. The smile on his face angered her and she wanted to make him regret his insolence. She reached forward and placed her weather beaten hand under his chin. She felt him try to pull away and laughed.

"You'll soon learn that I can and will do whatever I wish, Inmate 78," she told him. "I've got more than enough money to pay these men for their services and it seems Mr. Turner here would probably work for nothing. I think he has a few scores to settle with you. Bring him this way," she ordered.

Turner and Wilson dragged Chris towards the large Hacienda style house. He struggled against the grips on his arm but soon found himself forced to kneel in front of the woman.

"I'm sure you remember these," she said as she held out a dirty striped shirt and matching pants.

Chris saw the faded number 78 marked on the pocket.

"I bet you're wondering how I got my hands on your uniform," she laughed, her eyes sparkling dangerously. "My son and I had our own man watching things in that prison. You see we didn't trust the warden to tell us when he received the bail money from the prisoner's families. As soon as you and your men left that morning, he took this out of the garbage and brought it to me. I thought you would like a little reminder of your old home. I figure it'll make it easier for you to fit into your new home. Get him changed," she ordered as she aimed a rifle at Chris' chest. "Don't try anything foolish, Inmate 78. I don't plan on killing you but there are places I can put a bullet that will make you very uncomfortable."

Chris felt the manacles drop from his wrists and pulled his arms in front of him. He rubbed his chafed wrists to get the circulation back and glared at the woman. "You'll regret this," he said as he removed his shirt and pulled on the dirty, torn shirt of his old uniform. Memories of that time came back in a flash.

His attempted escape, the talk with the warden, the days in the hole, the knife wound and the resultant trip to the infirmary. The beating by the warden when Chris tried to save another injured inmate, the final trip to the hole that resulted in the warden's death by snakebite and Sheriff Quince's death by Chris's hand.

"Hurry up, Inmate 78," Ma Quince ordered.

"I'm not Inmate 78. My name is Chris Larabee," he spat angrily.

"From the moment you were sentenced to prison, you became Inmate 78. You are now back in prison and you will once again be referred to as Inmate 78," she smiled. "Now finish dressing or I'll have one of the men help you."

Chris Larabee glared at the woman holding the rifle. He reached down and undid the buttons of his black jeans. He wanted to pull the gun from her hands and ram it down her throat. Never in his life had he felt such hatred for a woman. He pulled the striped pants up over his hips and fastened them with a drawstring. If she thought forcing him to put on the hated prison uniform would break him, she was dead wrong. He stood before her dressed in the filthy remnants, a bold grin on his face,

"What's next?" he asked sarcastically.

Her cheeks burned red with anger as she watched the arrogant man before her. She'd hoped to humiliate him by making him wear the dirty clothes but it had done the opposite. He seemed cocky instead of beaten.

"Put the manacles back on his wrists and attach these to his ankles," she said as she tossed another set of cuffs at Chris' feet. "Then we'll take him to the hole," she ordered her men. "I think four days should do it for now."

Chris swallowed the fear that threatened to overcome him. He remembered his days in the hole at Jericho and wondered if he could live through those horror filled days again.

Turner fastened the cuffs and pushed Chris before him. The short chain between his legs caused him to stagger but he was able to stay on his feet. He was ushered around the house towards a small barn. The light of the moon sent ominous shadows across the empty yard. A dark patch of ground stood out as he walked forward.

"Here you are, Inmate 78," Ma Quince said as she stood before a small hole covered by a latticed grate. "Put him in, Mr. Turner."

"Open it Wilson," Turner ordered.

Chris watched as Jerry Wilson removed a large lock and hoisted the heavy steel grate. He looked into the hole and judged it to be even smaller than the one in Jericho. He swayed as a wave of vertigo came over him and tried to turn from the tiny cage. He felt himself propelled into the hole and grunted as the wounds on his back connected with the ground.

"Enjoy your new home, Inmate 78," Ma Quince said as she held the lantern over the hole.

Chris lay still for a moment waiting for his breath to come back. He opened his eyes and glared with deadly intensity at the woman holding the lantern, "Bitch," he said through clenched teeth.

"You'd better watch your mouth, Inmate 78, or I'll just have to teach you another lesson," Turner said as he replaced the heavy grating over the top of the hole. "Enjoy your stay," Turner told him.

"Get some rest Inmate 78. Tomorrow will be a long day and you'll need your energy to do the work," Ma Quince laughed.

Chris watched as the light disappeared from above and slowly got to his feet. The hole was smaller than the one in Jericho leaving barely enough room for him to kneel. There was barely enough room for him to stretch out on the hard ground, the space reminded him of a coffin and he shivered as a new thought occurred to him. '_That's what this place could be if I don't get out of here.'_

Chris tried to push up on the grate but it didn't budge. The manacles on his wrists made it hard to get a good grip on the thick bars. The lock was just out of reach of his outstretched hands and the pull it caused on his back caused him to clench his teeth and cry out.

Chris knew there was no way out of the hole and slumped against the wall defeated. He could almost hear Vin Tanner asking. '_Who'd ya piss off now, Cowboy?"_

'_Who'd ya piss off now, Cowboy_,' Vin thought as he knelt beside the bloodstain in Larabee's shack.

He'd searched the surrounding area but the torrential rain from the night before had obliterated any evidence of which direction Chris and whoever had taken him had gone. He knew his friend had not gone willingly and worry gnawed at his gut. Vin heard horses riding into the yard and hurried out to meet them.

"Find anything?" Buck asked as he jumped down from his horse.

"Not a damned thing, Buck, not one damned thing," Vin said angrily.

"It's not your fault, Mr. Tanner. The foul weather last night wreaked havoc with the terrain," Standish told him.

"I know you're right, Ezra, but I have a feeling Chris' life depends on us finding him quickly," Tanner said.

"I hate when you get those feelings, Vin," JD Dunne said as he straightened his derby hat.

"Where do we start searching for Brother Chris if we have no idea who has him or where he's being held?" Josiah Sanchez asked.

"I just don't know," Vin said, his worry for his friend weighing heavily on his heart.

"Well, Vin, if you haven't found anything here maybe we should go back to town and send out some wires. Maybe somebody spotted them in one of the towns," Nathan Jackson suggested. He felt partially responsible for their leaders disappearance since he'd given him permission to leave town. It didn't matter that Chris Larabee didn't need permission to do anything he damned well pleased.

"That's as good a place as any to start, Nathan," Buck said as the seven men mounted their horses and headed back to Four Corners just as darkness began to descend.

"Wake up, 78, time's wastin' and you got lots a work to do before ya eat," Turner laughed as he pulled the lock from the grate.

"Go to hell," Chris told the man as his body protested the slight effort he put into the words.

"Actually from where I stand, you're the one in hell, Inmate 78. Ma Quince wants you put to work. Now get up and earn your breakfast," Turner ordered.

"Tell the bitch I'm not hungry," Chris said and closed his eyes.

"That's not what she wants to hear," Turner said as he signalled Wilson to help him.

They reached into the tiny hole and pulled the prisoner out.

Chris felt the arms lift him out of his own private hole in the ground. His body was stiff and his back screamed at the movement. He bit back any cry that fought to escape not wanting to give the men the satisfaction of knowing just how much he hurt. His legs threatened to collapse as the two men released him but he found the strength to stay erect.

"Not bad, Inmate 78," Turner said, grudgingly giving the man credit for finding the strength to stay on his feet. "Now lets put you to work," he said.

Chris was led to a small fenced in area and a heavy rusted chain was attached to his leg. A pick was placed in his hand and he looked at Turner curiously. He debated using the pick on his enemy but knew he'd lose to the guns levelled at him from outside the small clearing.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"Ma Quince said you left a lot of unfinished work back in Jericho prison. She says she wants you to carry on where you left off. Man, I know how much I hate you, Inmate 78," Turner said shaking his head and smiling, "but this lady hates you even more. I'm glad it's you and not me. Now she wants those rocks broken down before you get to eat or drink so best get to work." Turner laughed as he exited the fenced in area.

Chris watched the man leave and stared at the pile of rocks lying in front of him. He knew there was nothing he could do about his situation at the moment but vowed he'd stay in shape till the opportunity for escape came along. He lifted the pick over his head and slammed it down on the nearest rock, grunting with the effort and the pain radiating from his back. He fixed his mind on the day he'd get out of here and exact his own revenge on Ma Quince, Turner, and Jerry Wilson. As each name took up residence in his mind, he ignored the pain and brought the pick down with a resounding thump that echoed off the surrounding hills.

The six members of the Magnificent Seven sat in the saloon going over plans to find their missing comrade. Telegrams had been sent to all the surrounding towns but there had been no replies as yet.

"Chris'll be ok won't he?" JD asked the others.

"You know he will JD," Buck said as he poured another glass of whiskey. "He's got more lives than a cat."

"You may be right, Buck, but lately he's been using up a lot of those lives," Nathan said as he remembered the struggle it had been for Chris to come back from the beatings he'd taken at Jericho.

"You know, Nate, I've been thinking 'bout that. Seems to me that we left some unfinished business in Jericho when we left that morning," Tanner said as he slugged back a shot of whiskey.

"What do you mean, Vin?" Buck asked.

"Anybody ever bother to check up on the sheriff's Ma. That woman was in on it just as much as her son and the warden," Vin explained.

"What's got you thinking about her, Brother Vin?" Sanchez asked.

"I'm not sure, Josiah, just one of them feelings you're always tellin' me not to ignore," Vin said.

"You think she has something to do with Mr. Larabee's disappearance " Standish asked, shuddering as a picture of the elderly woman pulling the trigger on the rifle she'd aimed at the preacher. Luckily Josiah had been expecting it and had been able to stop her from completing the deed.

"I think it's possible. I'd like to leave for Jericho at first light. If she's there, I'll ask her a few questions. If she's not, we can be pretty certain she's behind Chris' disappearance. She'll blame him for not only the loss of income but even worse for the death of her son," Vin said.

"You're not going alone," Buck said.

"Wasn't planning to, Buck, but there's no point in all of us going. Someone has to stay here in case there's any news from the other towns. I was thinkin' you and me could handle Jericho and the rest of you can handle any leads that do come in. Buck and me will let ya know if there's anything happening in Jericho. You guys can send a telegram to Jericho if something turns up before we contact you."

"All right, Brother Vin, but you and Buck better not try anything on your own. If you do find out where Chris is, you'd better wait for us to come back you up," Sanchez said.

"We will, Josiah," Buck said, looking pointedly at Vin. "If we're leavin' at first light, we'd best get some sleep."

"Meet ya at the livery, Buck, night boys," Vin said as the men began drifting away.

Chris' hands ached from wielding the heavy pick. The rocks had been broken and he'd finally been given a cup of water and a slice of stale bread. He ate the bread and gingerly downed the small amount of water, savoring every drop of the tepid liquid.

It wasn't long before he was on his feet with a new pile of rock in front of him. Turner stood watching him from the gate, a tiny smile fracturing his face.

"Best be quick with those if ya expect to eat tonight."

Chris didn't bother to answer; instead he took his frustrations out on the rocks before him. Sweat glistened on his forehead as the relentless sun beat down on him. He swiped his dirty sleeve across his face and leaned heavily on the handle of the pick. His body ached in parts he didn't remember having.

"It ain't time for a break yet, Inmate 78, get back to work," Turner said and snapped his whip towards the prisoner.

The whip landed short but Chris winced as he heard it. He turned his best glare on Turner and was rewarded when the man looked surprised.

"Still got a temper I see, Inmate 78," Turner laughed.

"You'll see more of my temper when I get out of here," Chris's low voice did nothing to hide the anger he felt.

"The only way you'll be leaving here is when you take your last breath."

"Don't bet on it," Chris said, his patented grin showing a confidence he didn't really feel.

"You're still cocky I see, Inmate 78, would you like to be shown another lesson?" Turner asked.

"Now, Mr. Turner, there'll be plenty of time for lessons later. Right now I'd like you to clean those wounds on his back. I don't want him to die too soon," Ma Quince said as she stepped up behind Turner.

'Yes, Ma'am," Turner said angrily. He wanted to wipe the smug grin off Larabee's face. He wanted to teach Larabee a lesson he'd never forget before he took his life. "You heard Mrs. Quince, 78, put the pick down and take your shirt off. Well at least pull it down a bit," Turner laughed as he remembered the manacles attached to the prisoners wrists.

"I don't need your help," Chris told him as he brandished the pick in front of him.

"Drop the pick, 78, or I'll have one of the men shoot you. Nothing serious, mind you, just enough so you'll feel the pain but still be able to work. Now put it down!"

Chris still held the pick, debating the man's words. He didn't drop it till he heard the cocking of a pistol off to his right. The pick tumbled to the ground as Chris realized he'd have to do as he was told if he hoped these men would drop their guard long enough for him to make good his escape.

"On your knees, Inmate 78," Turner said as he stepped into the small prison yard.

Chris had no choice but to obey as the pistol was once again cocked. His shirt was pulled down his back revealing the angry red wounds left by Turner's whip.

Turner lifted the whiskey bottle to his lips and took a deep swallow. "Shame to waste this on a dead man," he said and sighed as he poured it over the wounds.

"Ah, shit!" Chris screamed as the fiery liquid burned into his wounds. He tried to move away but was forced to the ground as Turner shoved him forward. More whiskey left the bottle and dripped onto Chris's back and he soon sought the peace of oblivion.

"There's Ma Quince's boarding house," Wilmington said as he rode beside Vin Tanner.

"It looks kinda empty," Vin said as he pulled to a stop in front of the small building. He flipped the reins over the post and walked up to the door. He tried the handle but it didn't move.

"Can I help you fellas?" a man asked from the opposite side of the street.

"Who're you?" Buck asked.

"I'm the new Sheriff here. The name's Tom Burton. Now who are you and what do you want?"

"I'm Vin Tanner and this is Buck Wilmington, Sheriff Burton. We're looking for a friend of ours."

"Well you won't find him there. Mrs. Quince left here about a month ago and we haven't heard from her since."

"Is there any way we can take a look in there?" Buck asked as he got down from his horse.

"Why?"

"Did you hear what happened to Sheriff Quince?" Tanner asked.

"Yeah, got himself killed at the prison. Seems like one of the prisoners killed him and the warden," Burton said.

"That prisoner was our friend." Wilmington said.

"The one you're looking for?"

"That's right. He disappeared four days ago," Tanner said.

"What makes you think he's here?"

"I don't think he's here, Sheriff but I have a feeling Mrs. Quince has something to do with Chris' disappearance," the longhaired tracker said.

"I guess it'll be alright," Burton said as he placed a key in the padlock he'd placed on the door. "You don't mind if I stay with you do you?"

"Not at all, Sheriff. We'd appreciate it if you gave us a hand to search," Wilmington said as he flicked the dust from the air.

"Tell me what you're looking for and I'll do the best I can."

"We're looking for anything that might indicate where she went and why she went there," Wilmington said as he began sifting through papers that were sitting on the table.

Vin searched through drawers and cupboards finding nothing that would give him a clue where she'd gone. Angry, he threw them to the floor.

"What about these?" Burton asked as he came out of the main bedroom carrying a pile of wanted papers.

"What are they?" Wilmington asked.

"Looks to me like a bunch of wanted posters," Burton said.

"I've seen a few of these guys in Purgatorio, Buck," Vin said as he looked over Wilmington's shoulder.

"What do you make of the circled ones?"

"Most of those guys live there. I think it's a good bet that Mrs. Quince might have gone there," Wilmington said.

"I think Ezra would agree with you on that."

"Is your friend's name Larabee?" Burton asked as he picked up a piece of paper from the floor.

"Yes. Why?" the tracker asked.

"You'd better look at this," Burton said holding out the paper.

Buck took it and read the telegram aloud. "Have location, stop. Will take Larabee this week. Stop. Turner, stop."

"She's got him, Buck," Tanner said angrily.

"I think you're right, Vin. Where's the telegraph office, Sheriff?"

"Come on, I'll take you there," Burton told them.

Chris opened his eyes and tried to move. He grimaced and bit his lip to keep from crying out as the pain in his back made itself known. He knew he was back in the hole and that night had fallen. The cold seeped into his bones and made him shiver uncontrollably. He tried to wet his lips but had no moisture to do it.

He sat up in the cramped quarters and tried to see through the grate. He could hear someone walking past his cage but couldn't see anyone. There was a tin cup and a bowl set next to the rim of the hole and he reached for them. He drank gratefully from the cup, letting the water slide down his dry throat. He saved some for after whatever meagre meal waited in the tiny bowl. Grimacing at the congealed mass in the bowl, he tried to close his mind to the smell and steeled himself against his protesting stomach. He finished the mass quickly, not tasting what was in it but knowing he needed to eat if he was to keep his strength up. He washed it down with the remains of the water and settled back against the side.

He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him. He had no idea how long he'd been here but didn't think it was more than a few days. Sleep overcame him and his mind wandered to another hellhole he'd escaped a little over a month ago.

The warden's words rang out in his troubled mind. "I got plans for you!" The glaring angry eyes as Chris once more refused to give in to the man.

"No!" Chris cried as the warden picked up a snake and held it in front of his face. Chris shivered as the fangs came within striking distance of his chin.

"Clean my boots, 78!" The warden said as he pressed the snake closer to the prisoner's face.

"No," Chris cried as he felt the snake bite into the tender flesh of his neck.

Chris struggled to breathe as the nightmare retreated.

"Wake up time, Inmate 78," Turner grinned down at him as two men pulled the grate up. "You have a lot of work to do before breakfast," he indicated the empty cup and bowl. "Did you enjoy last nights feast?" he laughed as his men pulled Chris from the Hole.

Chris tried to rub his legs to get the circulation going but was dragged to the fenced in compound again. Once inside, he looked at his hands, the palms were blistered from the work he'd done the last time he'd been brought to the compound. He had no idea how long that had been and wondered if the others were searching for him.

"Time's wasting, 78," Turner said as he flipped his whip at the prisoner.

Chris glared at the man and waited for him to repeat the action. It wasn't long before the whip sailed towards him but this time Larabee grabbed it in his hand and yanked the other man off his feet.

Chris didn't give Turner a chance to regain his composure. He crossed the few feet between them, ignoring the manacles that encumbered his movements, and threw himself at the downed man.

Turner saw the prisoner coming and tried to move out of the way but the lean man drove his shoulder into Turner's midsection and the two went flying. Chris was desperate. He struck out with his left fist connecting viciously with Turner's face. Blood sprayed from the broken nose and the man howled in rage.

"Help me here," he yelled in a muted voice as Chris struck him again, the manacles slicing into the skin on his cheek.

The blonde gunslinger knew his time had run out when a blow to his lower back sent him to his knees. He continued to the ground, feeling as if he were moving in slow motion, his mind once more conjuring up images of the warden and the other hole.

"Get him on his feet," Turner said and Chris smiled in spite of his own pain. He could see the blood running from Turner's nose and the deepening blackness around his eyes.

"What's going on Mr. Turner?"

"It's time to teach Inmate 78 another lesson, Mrs. Quince," Turner said as Chris was pulled to his feet and held between two men.

'What happened to you?" the silver haired woman asked as she walked into the compound and up to the men.

"He did," Turner said, indicating the prisoner. "What's the punishment for striking a prison official again, Mrs. Quince?" he asked glaring at the blonde.

"I think that's up to the man he hit," Ma Quince said with a malicious grin. "Just don't kill him, that pleasure will be mine"

"Bitch," Chris said and once more received a slap across the face from the red-faced woman.

"That's not nice, Inmate 78. I'm going to enjoy this lesson," Turner said as he delivered the first blow to Larabee's stomach.

Chris saw the blow coming and set himself against the pain. Turner's punch was powerful and the gunslinger realized he wouldn't be able to stand up to him for very long. Blow after blow connected with his face, torso, and arms as Turner delivered his own brand of justice on the helpless prisoner.

"That's enough, Mr. Turner," Ma Quince warned as she watched the blonde's body go slack.

Turner ignored the woman and delivered one more devastating blow to the already bloodied face.

"Mr. Turner," the woman screamed. "You will stop now or you can forget the extra bonus I promised you for letting me kill him."

"Well then do it now!" Turner said as he shoved a rifle towards her.

"NO!"

"Why the hell not?"

"It's too soon!" she screamed at him. "I want him to suffer for what he did to my Boy. I want to watch him as his body grows weak and gets sick. I want to watch him as he realizes he really is Inmate 78 and not some macho gunslinger turned lawman," she said as she lifted the unconscious man's face and looked at the damage.

Blood streamed from two cuts, one on his forehead and one on his right cheek. Neither seemed to need stitches but they'd need to be cleaned against infection. There was bruising around the right eye and a tiny stream of blood flowed from his nose.

"You men clean him up. Make sure there's nothing seriously wrong with him and then put him back to work."

"Yes, ma'am," the two said as one. They pulled Chris' unconscious body from the compound and dropped him before the horse trough.

"What should we do if he don't wake up?" a short, stocky man named Ray Thorn asked.

"Put him back in the Hole," Turner called as he made his way into the house to clean his own injury.

"You heard him," Ma Quince said as she threw a rag at the second man. "Make sure you clean those wounds good can't have him dyin' of an infection," she laughed.

"Yes, Ma'am," Thorn said as the woman disappeared into the house. "You clean 'em up, Mitch," Thorn said as he threw the cloth at his companion.

"Why should I? 'Sides it'd be quicker if you just doused 'em with a bucket of water. That way he wakes up and gets clean at the same time," Mitch laughed.

"That ain't a bad idea. Time to wake up Inmate 78," Thorn said as he lifted the pail from the trough and dumped it over the blonde.

Chris sputtered and opened his eyes as the water pulled him back to consciousness. His hands went to his face and he wiped the excess water from his dripping hair and face. His body ached and he trembled as he tried to get to his feet, only to fall to his knees. A sharp pain from his side signalled damage to his ribs.

"On your feet, 78," Thorn said.

Chris cringed at the memories those words conjured up. Memories of another hell, another hole, and another time. He dragged his protesting body upright and glared at the two men before him.

Thorn felt a slight fear invade his mind. The man before him should have been beaten into submission by now instead he stood before them glaring defiantly.

"Here," he said flinging the wet cloth at the prisoner. "Clean yourself up. You've still got a lot of work to do."

Chris caught the cloth and welcomed the cooling touch on his battered face. The sound of the manacles on his wrists made him cringe. His wrists were beginning to chafe from the heavy metal.

"That's enough, Inmate 78, time to go back to work," Thorn laughed as he snatched the cloth away and pulled on the metal chain connecting the prisoner's wrists.

"Josiah," Mary Travis called as she hurried into the church. They'd been lucky the office had stayed open later than normal. The people of Four Corners knew one of their protectors was in trouble and the remaining four were waiting for word from the surrounding towns or the two men who'd gone in search of the missing man.

"What is it, Mrs. Travis?" Sanchez asked as he placed a stone next to a broken pew.

"Telegram from Vin and Buck," she said as she passed the paper to the ex preacher.

Sanchez read the paper twice and moved past the blond woman.

"I'm going to get the others. We'll be leaving at first light," he told her as he headed for the saloon. "JD," he called as he spotted the young man sitting outside the jail. "Get Nathan and meet me at the saloon."

"Sure thing, Josiah, something wrong?" Dunne asked as he moved towards the clinic.

"Message from Buck and Vin," Sanchez told him.

"We'll be right there," Dunne said as he hurried to get Nathan.

Five minutes later, as darkness fell over Four Corners, four men sat at the table normally reserved for their leader and friend.

"According to the telegram, Vin and Buck will be leaving for Purgatorio first thing in the morning. I asked Mrs. Travis to send a telegram to Jericho telling Buck and Vin we'd meet them at Maria's," Sanchez informed them.

"Do you think they'll wait for us, Mr. Sanchez?" Standish asked.

"Probably not but at least we won't be too far behind them. Maybe they'll have some leads by the time we reach Purgatorio."

"Unless they find trouble of their own. I think I'd better make sure my kit's well stocked," Jackson said.

"Mr. Tanner and Mr. Wilmington don't have to find trouble of their own. Like Mr. Larabee, trouble finds them," Standish said as he flipped a deck of cards onto the table.

"I think you all have that problem," Jackson said as he looked from one man to another. "I'll see you all at the livery at first light."

"Sleep well, Brother Nate," Sanchez said.

"You want to go in or do we wait for the others?" Wilmington asked.

"Let's go see Maria. Maybe she can get us some information before the others get here," Tanner said as they slowly rode down the center of the outlaw town. Vin felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up as he rode towards the woman's residence, a small room located next to the saloon.

"I hate this place," Wilmington said as a fight broke out in front of them, forcing them to move the horses out of the way.

"Easy, Buck, just ignore them," Vin said.

Shots were fired from across the street and a body feel to the ground beside Buck's horse, causing the animal to rear suddenly. Wilmington quickly got the animal under control and continued down the street.

"This place just keeps getting worse," he said as they pulled up in front of Maria's home.

They tied their horses to the hitching post and hurried to the door. Vin knocked on the door and waited to see if it would open. Chris had been visiting Maria for months now although not always for the job she was proficient at. Chris had once told Vin that he could talk to Maria about things he'd never been able to share with anyone else. Maria listened and never wanted or expected anything in return.

The door opened and Maria stood before them. She recognized the two men standing before her and quickly ushered them inside. "Where is senior Chris?" she asked expectantly.

"We're hoping you can help us find out," Wilmington said as he took off his hat.

"He is not here," she told them.

"We know that. Maria, we need to find out if anyone's been talking about him recently. I'd also like to find out if there's been an elderly woman here. Silver hair, probably pulled back in a tight bun, dark cold eyes, not very tall, but very stern," Tanner told her.

"Do you think this woman knows where Senor Chris is?" Maria asked.

"We're pretty certain she does. Her name's Quince..."

"She any relation to the sheriff in Jericho?"

"She was his Mother," Tanner explained.

"Senor Chris told me about her on his last visit. She helped her son find people with money. Why didn't she go to jail?"

"I guess none of us figured she'd cause any problems. We wanted to put Jericho behind us for Chris' sake," Wilmington told her.

"And now you think she has him?"

"Looks that way," Wilmington said. "We found some wanted posters in her house along with a telegram from here saying they had taken Chris and she disappeared from Jericho soon after that," Tanner said.

"I will see what I can find out," Maria said as she began to dress. Vin turned his back while Buck grinned wolfishly.

"Thank you Ma'am," Tanner said.

"Senor Chris is a good man and I do not want to see anything happen to him," Maria said as she finished pulling her dress down over her head.

"Here's some money in case you need to pay for information," Wilmington said as he passed her some coins.

"Thank you, this will help," she said as she left the two men in her room.

"Think she'll find anything?" Wilmington asked.

"For Chris' sake, I hope so, Buck. He's been missing almost a week now and if it's Quince's Ma that's got em, he's gonna need help."

"That old woman must've planned this since we rescued Chris from Jericho."

"Probably. I keep seeing her eyes when she met us on the street with that shotgun. Her eyes were filled with evil."

"I know. I wish we'd done something about her then. Chris wouldn't be missin' if we had," Wilmington said as he glanced out the window. The streets of Purgatorio were overrun with outlaws, some lounging against hitching posts, some arguing and drinking, all with their hands close to their guns.

"We'll find him, Buck, we have to," the younger man said as he joined his friend at the window.

Chris tried to sleep in his tiny underground hole. A light rain had started and his clothes stuck to his skin. The ground around him had softened in the steady mist and his body was caked in muddy earth. He swiped at his eyes only to make the dirt and grime spread unevenly over his face.

The cover over his prison was pulled back and two men reached into the hole for him. His legs were weak as they placed him on the ground in front of them. The lid of the tiny hellhole clanged despairingly in the light rain.

"You didn't think we'd let you off just cause of a little rain, did you?" Turner asked, his broken nose giving his voice a slightly nasal quality.

Chris glared at the man before him. He fought back the anger as the rain fell onto his face. He welcomed the cleansing moisture as it helped wash away the dirt and mud caked on his body. Slowly he let a smile find it's way to his face.

"Not for a minute," Chris said as he walked past the stunned men and headed for the compound.

"Slow down, Inmate 78," Turner called.

Chris continued to walk away from the man, ignoring his words as he opened the gate and stepped inside. He managed to keep his anger in check from bubbling over in his haste to be away from his enemies. He knew his own temper would only make matters worse when it came to his confinement. He picked up the pick, his blistered hands protesting loudly, and began breaking the new rocks that had been placed inside.

Turner stepped into the compound, his face red with anger. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"Inmate 78," Chris said as he brought the pick down hard on the rock in front of him.

Turner snarled as he grabbed the insolent man's arm. "That's right! You're the inmate here and you will do as you're told or so help me, I'll make you pay."

"I'm doing my work," the blonde said as he struck at another piece of rock.

Chris suddenly realized that he was alone with Turner. He had no idea where the others were but he knew he could get rid of one of his captors and he struck out with the pick.

Turner saw the blow coming but was unable to move away from it. The blade imbedded in his upper thigh as the dirty figure before him screamed in rage. Turner dropped to his knees and reached for the pick handle as the prisoner hurried towards the gate.

Chris knew the others were probably just outside the door and he reached down and took the gun from Turner's holster. He hurried to the gate and pulled it open, surprising the two men waiting there. Chris lashed out with the gun, hitting the first man behind the ear and quickly turning to the other man. When he was finished, the two men had dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Chris looked towards the house. Nothing moved as he turned his head in all directions. The only sound came from the injured man inside the compound. Holding his arms to his ribs and pushing the gun into his pants, he ran towards the heavily wooded area. He knew if they spotted him before he made it to the trees, he'd be dragged back to the hell Ma Quince felt he deserved. He ignored the pain in his side and back as he stumbled into the trees.

He prayed they wouldn't discover he was missing until he'd put some distance between them. He had no idea how long he ran, he just pushed one leg in front of the other in his plight. He stumbled through the trees, sliding down hills and picking himself up at the bottom. His clothing became matted with mud, twigs and grass. His body accumulated more cuts and bruises in his effort to escape. His ribs throbbed unmercifully as he stumbled once again and landed against a rock. He gasped as he fought to stay conscious but lost the fight as a wall of blackness descended over his mind.

Chris had no idea how long he laid there. He opened his eyes to the sun beating down on him. He sat up, placing his hand over his eyes in an effort to stop his head from pounding. Suddenly he heard dogs in the distance. He knew it could be anybody but instinctively his mind told him to run.

He struggled to shaky legs and forced his aching body to move. He could tell the animals were getting closer but there was no way he would give up. The gun he had was fully loaded and he would take some of them down with him. He wouldn't be recaptured alive.

He heard the dogs as they crested the hill he'd just rolled down. He turned to see three men outlined against the dying sun. The braying of the dogs told him they were loose and on his scent. He looked for a place to go to ground and still use the gun on the dogs and the men chasing him. He spotted a cave in the distance and hurried towards it. Fatigue, as well as the manacles on his ankles, made him feel like he was running through quicksand.

"Looks like they picked up a scent," Wilson said as he hurried down the hill.

Thorn and Mitch followed him down the hill. Each man wore a smile of intense glee at the thought of catching the man who'd knocked him out and injured his friend.

Chris stumbled up the next rise, the cave only a few feet in front of him. '_I've got to make it_,' he thought even as he felt the heavy weight leap at his back. He fell to the ground, the gun flying from his hands as the large animal clamped down on his forearm. He screamed in agony and tried to keep his other arm over his head protecting his head and neck from the gnashing teeth. A second animal tore into his leg, just below the knee, and he knew he was going to die. Knife-like lancing pain radiated out from his arm and calf as the animals held fast.

He stopped struggling, waiting for it to be over, knowing he'd finally be with Sarah and Adam. Closing his eyes, he ignored the animals holding him and waited for death to come calling.

Wilson was the first man on the scene. He saw the blood seeping from the man in the prison uniform and knew he had to stop the dogs before they killed him or Mrs. Quince would kill him and the others. He fired his gun in the air and the dogs immediately backed off leaving the man bleeding on the ground.

"Mitch, grab the dogs and keep them away," Wilson ordered.

"What if they decide to attack me?" Mitch asked, suddenly afraid of the two big dogs.

"They won't. They've been well trained. Besides, who would you rather face, the dogs or Mrs. Quince? Now get to it. Put the leash on them and hold them back."

Mitch looked at the dogs and then at the bleeding man on the ground. '_Definitely rather face the_ _dogs,_' he thought as he attached the ropes to the collars.

"Thorn, give me a hand to stop the bleeding. We gotta bring him back to her alive," Wilson said as he tried to staunch the flow of blood from the teeth and claw marks on the blonde's forearm. He watched Thorn do the same with the leg wounds. Finally the bleeding was stopped and they pulled the still unconscious man to his feet. Supporting him between them, they started back the way they'd come.

"It's only me," Maria said as she stepped into the tiny apartment.

"Did you find out anything, Maria?" Buck asked.

"I found out a few things, Senor Buck. Money buys you anything in Purgatorio," Maria said and turned when there was a knock at her door. "You two hide in there," she said as she indicated a tiny space used for storage. As soon as the two men were hidden, she opened her door to reveal four men.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I hope so, Ma'am, we're lookin' for some friends of ours. Two men..."

"Josiah," Wilmington said as he and Vin stepped out of the storage space.

"You know them?" Maria asked as the four men stepped into the room.

"Yes, Ma'am," Tanner said.

"They more friends of Senor Chris?"

"Yes, Maria, they are," Wilmington said and introduced the four newcomers. Once the introductions were finished, they gave Maria their undivided attention.

"I found out the lady you were asking about met with a man named Billy Turner."

"Damn, that's not good," Wilmington said.

"You know him, Buck?" Jackson asked.

"Billy Turner is a low life who Chris and I met just before he met Sarah. The man had a penchant for beating people who couldn't fight back. Chris ran into him and another guy one night. They were attacking an elderly couple. Needless to say, Chris didn't like that and he put a stop to it real quick. By the time he was finished, Turner and his pal needed to see the town doctor real bad. Turner's friend never made it and Turner vowed he'd some day get his revenge on Chris," Wilmington explained.

"Maria, did you find out anything else?" Tanner asked.

"Turner and four other men left two weeks ago. One of those men, I think his name might have been Wilson was bragging about kidnapping a lawman."

"I've heard of Wilson as well," Wilmington said. "He was supposed to be a friend of Chris'."

"Wilson mentioned bringing the man to a hideaway somewhere south of here," Maria said. "From the bartender's description, it's an abandoned hacienda fifty miles or so southwest of Purgatorio."

"Thank you, Maria. I'll be sure to tell Chris how much you helped," Tanner said as he placed a few coins in her hand.

"Thank you, Senor Vin. I hope you find Senor Chris before it's too late," Maria said as she opened the door and watched the men hurry to their horses. They now had a general idea of where to search.

"Wake up, 78."

Chris Larabee recognized the female voice and wanted nothing more than to end her miserable life. He wanted nothing more than to remain trapped in the pleasant dream world he'd languished in since the dogs had attacked him. A world he shared with the two people who'd meant so much to him. No amount of fighting would keep them here with him and he watched as their images faded from his sight.

"No," he said the one word slipping past his swollen lips as he pleaded for them to come back.

"I said wake up, 78."

"Go to hell," the blonde said as he struggled to get away from the two men holding him.

"Oh, I don't think I'll be the one going to hell, Inmate 78. Mr. Turner has finally convinced me that keeping you alive any longer is not a wise idea. I wanted you to suffer for what you did to my boy but since you've shown how dangerous you can be, I'm going to end your life tonight," the elderly woman laughed harshly. "Put him back in the hole until everything is ready," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," Wilson said as he dragged the blonde back towards his prison. Thorn ripped open the lid and helped Wilson shove the injured man back inside.

"See anything, Vin?" Dunne asked.

"There's some kind of compound out back. I've seen a few people moving around. It looks like they're preparing for a party of some kind. There's several chairs and a large table set up next to a tree. Buck, take a look and see if you recognize anyone," Tanner said as he passed his scope to the ladies man.

Wilmington panned the scope over the area and studied each man. His eyes lit on a man seated at a table with his leg propped up, "That's Turner sitting at the table," he said as he passed the scope back to its owner.

Tanner put the scope back to his eye and studied the man. His eye was drawn to the door of the hacienda as an elderly woman stepped out, "Mrs. Quince is there. She just came out of the house."

"Any sign of Mr. Larabee?" Standish asked.

"Not yet," Tanner said. "Boys I think we need a plan."

"I got a plan," Wilmington said angrily. "I say we go down and get Chris the hell outta there!"

"That'll just end up gettin' Chris killed," Jackson said.

"Do you have a better idea?" Wilmington asked angrily.

"Easy, Brother Buck, Nathan's right. We can't just go rushing in there. I think maybe it's time for a sneak attack. It'll be dark in a couple of hours. I say we keep an eye on things and once it's dark we go down and find Brother Chris."

"I think Josiah is right, Buck," Tanner said. "We can move a lot easier under the cover of darkness."

Wilmington wanted nothing more than to charge the hacienda and get his friend away from there. He knew his friends were right but the idea of Chris Larabee in the hands of the woman he'd met in Jericho sent chills down his spine. "I just want him out of there," he said.

"I do to, Brother Buck, but until we know where he is, we'd be going in blind and that would cost him his life," Sanchez said.

"Alright, the rest of you get some rest. I'll keep an eye on the house," Tanner said and smiled as none of the others moved from where they stood. He knew that until they had Chris back where he belonged, no one would rest.

"I think we're all set, Mrs. Quince," Turner said as he flicked his whip out in front of him, the snap crisp in the dwindling light.

"Have your men bring him here," Mrs. Quince said, shivering in anticipation of what was about to happen to the man who'd killed her boy.

"Thorn, Wilson, bring the guest of honor," Turner ordered.

Thorn and Wilson hurried to the small square hole where they'd deposited the prisoner earlier that day.

"God damn!" Tanner said as he watched the man being pulled from the ground.

"What is it Vin?" Dunne asked.

"Chris," Tanner said as he recognized the faded uniform on the lean body.

"Chris," Jackson said.

"Is he alive?" Sanchez asked.

"Where is he, Vin?" Wilmington asked as he peered down at the darkening yard.

"He's alive but he ain't movin' much," Tanner said softly.

"We'd better get down there," Wilmington said.

"Buck, we go now but we go slow. Let's split up and come at them from three sides. Keep the house at their back so no one can come at us from that direction. Ezra, Josiah, you two take the east. Buck and JD come in from the west. Nathan and I'll come at 'em from the south. Keep your heads down. I'm going for Chris as soon as we get down there so keep me covered."

"We will endeavour to do so, Mr. Tanner," Standish said as the six men moved in opposite directions.

"Are you ready to meet your maker, 78?" the elderly woman asked as she watched Thorn and Wilson attach his wrists to manacles held in the new platform they'd erected.

Chris Larabee was a man of few words. He knew he would die today and had promised he would not give her the satisfaction she so desperately wanted. He would remain quiet during whatever they had planned for him. His leg and arm burned where the dogs had broken through his flesh. He felt weak and feverish.

Chris would have loved for either Turner or Quince to come close enough for him to try something but he knew they wouldn't. Somehow, he knew they'd keep their distance.

"I asked you a question, 78, are you ready to meet your maker?"

Chris lifted his head and glared at her, his calm green eyes drilling into hers. There was no trace of the fear she hoped to see on his beaten face. As she looked into his eyes, she realized that this man could still kill her if she got too close. A shudder passed through her body as she instinctively moved away.

"Get on with it, Mr. Turner," she said.

"My pleasure, Mrs. Quince," Turner said as he signalled for Thorn to rip the man's shirt off.

Chris waited for the first impact, knowing he'd have to fight to keep the cries inside. He'd felt the bite of the whip before and knew sooner or later it would be impossible for him to do so. Somehow he'd keep his vow this time. The first stinging lash of the whip made him struggle against the chains, causing blood to seep from the puncture wounds in his arms. The second made him pull his body erect as he tried to shift away from the source of the burning pain. By the time the sixth blow landed on his back, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his vow of silence. He closed his eyes and prayed for it to be over quickly.

"Don't kill him, Mr. Turner, that job is mine."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Quince. I'm just gonna have a little fun before you do the honors," Turner said as he let the whip lash out once again, this time eliciting a small cry from the captive.

"What's the matter, 78?" he asked.

"Get away from him you son of a bitch," Tanner shouted as he left the cover of the trees.

Once he'd heard the cry from the wounded man, he couldn't wait any longer. Hoping the others were in position, he quickly moved towards the blonde.

"Kill Larabee," Mrs. Quince screamed as she watched several men come out of the trees.

She recognized them from Jericho and knew they were Larabee's friends, and turning away hurrying towards the house.

Turner reached down and pulled the knife from his sheath. He lifted the knife as he stepped in front of the prisoner. As soon as he was within striking distance, Chris lifted his feet and wrapped the chain around the man's neck. Ignoring the fiery agony in his leg, he twisted till the chain tightened, effectively cutting off the man's air supply.

Vin dove to the ground as gunshots sounded all around him. He crawled towards his friend just as Turner lifted the knife. He never fired the shot as Chris' legs came up to wrap around the man's neck. Vin looked towards the house as he heard a woman's angry voice as she disappeared inside.

Two men fell to his left, brought down by bullets from Wilmington and Dunne. He knew Nathan was behind him as he heard the healer's gun fire on the final man. Sanchez and Standish stepped away from the house and fired on the man taking cover behind the horse trough. A cry of pain signalled that one of the bullets had found its mark.

"Buck, Mrs. Quince just went into the house."

"We got her," Wilmington said as JD followed him towards the house.

Chris tightened the chain around Turner's neck until the man's struggles finally stopped. He released his hold and let his own body sag against the bonds that held him.

"Chris," Tanner cried as he reached the barely conscious man.

"Vin," the green eyes opened and gazed into the warmest eyes he'd ever known. "Thought you'd never get here," he said weakly.

"Help me get him down," the tracker shouted as he held the dead weight in his arms, careful of the bleeding wounds in his back.

"Let me have him, Brother Vin," Sanchez said as he reached the two men. "You see if you can find the keys to free him."

"Ok, Josiah," Tanner said as he relinquished his hold to the larger man.

He searched through Turner's pocket and came up with a set of keys. He reached up and unlocked the manacle holding Chris' left wrist, angered when the arm dropped lifelessly to the blonde's side. He did the same to the one holding the right arm, his eyes drawn to the teeth marks on his friend's forearm.

Sanchez held the blonde, finding it hard to keep his hands away from any damaged area.

"Thanks," Larabee said as he felt the ex preacher holding him upright.

"You're welcome, Brother," Sanchez said, tears in his eyes as he realized such a simple act of caring could mean so much.

"Let me take a look at him," Jackson said as he stepped up to the injured man.

"I'll kill you, Larabee," Ma Quince screamed as she stepped through the door a loaded shotgun in her hands.

"Drop it!" Wilmington said as he stepped towards her.

"You go to hell!" she said as she pointed the gun at the man she hated.

Vin Tanner and Nathan Jackson stepped in front of Chris and Josiah, effectively becoming shields for the two men.

"Get away from him or I'll kill you all!" she screamed maniacally.

"Put the gun down," Wilmington ordered.

"No! He has to die!" she said as she squeezed the trigger. Four guns sounded as one and the vindictive woman fell to the ground, blood blossoming around four wounds to her torso.

"Why couldn't you just let it go?" Wilmington asked as he stood over her.

"H...he k...killed m...my b...boy," she gargled as her eyes closed forever.

"Let's get him inside," Jackson said immediately returning to his role as healer. "Josiah, lift him up but be careful of his back."

"I c...can walk," the blonde said.

"I don't think so, Chris, let Josiah help you inside," Jackson said.

"Nathan, it looks like he's been bit by dogs as well," Tanner said.

"I saw that, Vin. Can you get my kit from my horse?"

Tanner nodded as he hurried to get the healer's supplies.

"I'll come with you, Vin," Dunne said as he hurried after the tracker.

"Drink this, Chris," Jackson said as he looked at the nearly naked body of his friend and leader.

There were more bruises and cuts on his body than he'd had when he was rescued from Jericho. Some of the cuts were infected and needed to be cleaned before he could sew them up. The wounds that bothered him the most were the dog bites. They'd found the two animals locked in a cage in the barn. The animals didn't appear sick but Nathan knew he'd have to watch them for signs of rabies.

"W...hat is it, N...Nathan?" the blonde asked as he struggled with the pain that emanated from every part of his body.

"Laudanum. I have to work on these wounds and I don't want you moving around too much," Jackson said as he held the spoon to the blonde's mouth.

Larabee wanted to protest but thought better of it as he watched the healer pull out his instruments. He opened his swollen lips and took the proffered medication.

"Buck, Josiah, give me a hand here," Jackson said.

"How're you doin, Stud?" Wilmington asked as he knelt beside the low bed that housed his injured friend.

"F...fine, Buck," the blonde said, smiling at his oldest friend. Slowly his eyes drifted shut as fatigue and pain took over.

"Sure you are, Brother," Sanchez said as he joined the three men. "What do you need me to do, Nathan?"

"Need you and Buck to hold him down while I tend those bites. Gonna have to clean 'em and sew 'em up. He ain't gonna lie still when I pour the carbolic over the wounds. You two make sure he don't move around too much," Jackson ordered. "Ok, I'm ready," Jackson said as he began to clean the vicious looking teeth marks.

Chris was drawn from his warm dreams by a cry of pain. He opened his eyes, looked at the two men holding him and realized the cry had come from him.

"Easy, Stud, Nathan's just cleaning ya up," Wilmington said.

"F...feels like he's m...messin' me up e...even m...more," the blonde said as the healer poured more carbolic over the puncture marks.

Wilmington reached out and grasped his friend's hand in his own as the blonde struggled to get away from the source of torment.

"Almost done, Chris," Jackson said as he bandaged the arm.

"Got any w...whiskey?"

"Nate?" Buck asked as he saw the pain in his friend's eyes.

"Give him a shot, Buck," Jackson ordered as he prepared to clean the leg wounds.

Ezra Standish heard the order and poured a shot from his own flask. He brought it over and placed it in Jackson's hand. "Here ya go, Chris," he said as he lifted the blonde head.

Chris swallowed the fiery liquid and glanced at Standish with hooded, pain filled eyes, "Thanks," he said and let his eyes close again.

"You're more than welcome, Mr. Larabee," Standish said as he moved away to give the men room to work.

"How's he doin', Nate?" Tanner asked as he returned from checking on the dogs.

Two days had passed and they were all concerned about the injured leader. Nathan had warned them that there was always the possibility of rabies when animal bites were involved. The dogs showed no sign of the disease but they'd have to keep an eye on them during the incubation period.

"He's exhausted, runnin' a fever. There's some infection in his back but I don't think it's too serious," the healer said as he bathed the too pale brow.

"Is he gonna be alright?" the tracker asked worriedly.

"Hard to say, Vin, depends on how much strength he's got left. Jericho wasn't that long ago and he was just startin' to get past those injuries."

"V...Vin."

"I'm here, Pard," Tanner said as he pulled a chair next to the bed.

"Keep wipin' him down, Vin," Jackson said. "I'm gonna warm up some of that broth, maybe he'll take it from you."

"How are ya feelin', Cowboy?" Tanner asked, as he nodded to Jackson.

"Been better," the blonde said as he reached out his left hand, stopping the younger man's attempt to wipe his forehead. "Where's Quince?" he asked.

"She's dead, Chris."

"Can't say as I'm sorry," the injured man said as he closed his eyes. His dreams had been laced with memories of the warden and Ma Quince. Somehow their deaths didn't relieve his fevered mind and he was soon drifting into another nightmare.

"Me either, Pard," the tracker said softly.

"See if you can get him to take some of this," Jackson said as he passed the tracker a cup of broth.

"He's sleepin'."

"Vin, it's important that we get something into him. The fever is sapping his strength and he needs something to build it back up."

"I'll try, Nathan. But ya know Chris when he's sick. He don't want nothin' to eat," Tanner said as he took the cup.

"I know five other fool men just like him," Jackson said with a grin.

Vin smiled at the healer before turning his attention back to his friend. "Chris, got somethin' for ya ta drink," he said. "Come on, Cowboy, drink this and I'll let ya go back ta sleep."

"D...don't want none," the blonde said weakly.

"Chris, ya know how stubborn I can be."

"No."

"I'll get out my harmonica," the tracker threatened and was rewarded by a tiny smile from his injured friend.

"You wouldn't dare," Larabee said as he opened his tired eyes.

"Try me," Tanner said as he lifted the sweat soaked blonde head.

Chris looked at his friend and knew he wouldn't win this argument. The younger man was insistent that he drink the broth and he was too weak to fight him on it. He opened his mouth and took a few sips before turning away. "Enough," he said.

"Just a little more, Cowboy."

"Vin."

"Nathan, hand me my harmonica."

"Damn, Tanner, y...you'd do it too. W...wouldn't ya?" the blonde said as he opened his mouth and drank a little more. "T...that's enough, Vin," he pleaded.

"OK, Vin, that's fine. Chris, I got one more thing for you to drink then you can rest," Jackson said as he passed the tracker another cup.

Chris sipped from the new cup and tried to spit it out.

"Oh no you don't, Pard," Tanner said as he held the cup close to his mouth. "Come on finish it and I'll stop pestering you."

Chris didn't have the energy to fight any longer. He drank what was left in the cup and turned away from the two men. He felt the warmth of the healing tea relaxing the tense muscles in his drained body. Closing his eyes, he slipped into a drug induced sleep.

Chris Larabee slept round the clock for the next three days thanks to a combination of Nathan's teas, laudanum and pure exhaustion. They woke him and forced broth down his throat, constantly blackmailing him into doing as they wanted. By the time he woke up on the morning of the sixth day since his rescue, some of his strength, stubbornness, and fight had returned.

"Come on, Nathan, I want to go home," the blonde said.

"I said no, Chris. Now I'm not gonna argue with ya. Between your back, arm, leg and ribs, you're stayin' put. I see you try to get outta that bed just once I'll tie you down," Jackson said.

"Don't try it," the blonde said, but his voice lacked its usual authority.

"Then don't arguer with me," Jackson said as he helped the weak man sit up. "Looks like your fever finally broke. Do you feel like eating something?"

Chris leaned back against the pillow and waited for the room to stop spinning. "A little," he said. "Where is everyone?" he asked as he noticed the empty room.

"JD, Josiah, and Ezra headed back to Four Corners yesterday. Buck and Vin are outside. I had to force them both to take a break. You've been pretty out of it for the past few days."

"I remember having some pretty bad dreams," the blonde said as Nathan sat next to him, a bowl in his hands.

"I can do it, Nathan," he said as he reached for the bowl.

"I don't think so, Chris. You've got to let that arm heal."

"But, Nathan."

"Look, Chris, that arm still has some signs of infection and I don't want your stubborn pride causing any more damage. Just give it a few more days, Ok?"

"Having problems, Nate?" Wilmington asked as he stepped into the room.

"Nothing I can't handle. Open up, Chris," the healer said.

Larabee did as he was told and glared at the smiling ladies man. "Shut up, Buck," he said.

"Sure thing, Stud," Wilmington laughed.

"I don't think the dogs are sick, Nathan," Tanner said as the healer joined him at the cage.

"We still have another week before we know for sure, Vin," Jackson said. "I just don't want to take the chance with Chris' health."

"It's not me you have to convince," Tanner said.

"I know. That stubborn mule wants to head home tomorrow."

"We gonna go?"

"I told him the only way we leave here tomorrow is with him lying in the back of a wagon. He's only just gotten over that fever. The wounds on his arm, leg and back aren't healed yet. He's got more bruises than I've ever seen on one body. He's weak and he's still hurtin' but he won't admit it."

"That sounds like Chris," Tanner laughed.

"Sounds like you too, Vin," Jackson said seriously.

"Hey, I ain't the one hurt this time, Nate."

"No, but you're just like Chris when it comes to admitting you need help."

"We don't make your job very easy do we?"

"No, you don't," Jackson said. "What are we gonna do about them?" he asked indicating the two animals in the cage.

"I know of an old man who just might be able to use them. He's real good with abused animals. I swear this man knows how to talk with them. We can drop them off on the way back to Four Corners."

"How are we supposed to get them back?"

"I've been spending time with them since we got here. Don't worry, I'll be able to handle them," the tracker said.

"Alright, I guess we leave tomorrow at daybreak."

"Remember what I said, Chris."

"I know, Nathan, use the cane and don't use the arm," Larabee said as he followed his friend to the saloon.

Nathan had released him from the clinic that morning, warning him that his arm and leg were still not a hundred percent and that he'd have to take it easy on them. The nightmares he'd been having had finally faded and he was glad to be home where he belonged. He stepped into the dim interior of the saloon and limped towards his usual table. He soon found himself surrounded by his six friends. He settled back in his chair, black hat tipped towards the back, a cocky grin on his handsome face.

"Well, boys, I think I owe you all a drink," he said.

"Why, Mr. Larabee, are you offering to buy a round?"

"That's right, Ez. I owe you boys a lot more than that for coming after me."

"That's what friends are for, Cowboy," Tanner said as he signalled the bartender for another round.

Chris knew he'd still have some nightmares from his time in Jericho and his time in Ma Quince's hellhole but for now he was content to bask in the company of his friends. Smiling contentedly, he closed his eyes and listened to the men around him laughing and joking with each other. He was home and that's all that mattered.

THE END! 


End file.
